I will miss her smile
by Ipo-Utopia
Summary: Loosely based on scripture Mark 5:22-24, 35-43, A mother is anguished over the illness of her child. RR


She's dying ( It has been a month since she's fallen ill. They say this is supposed to get easier as time goes by. They lied. My poor baby, Jonina. We all thought she'd pull through. 'We' being every mystic, healer and physician within a 50-mile radius.  
  
Excuse me, I'm little frantic. She's having another one of her coughing fits. Everyone pays close attention to them since we never know when a fit might be her last. I yawn and rub my eyes. I have yet to allow sleep to claim me. I can feel the rings under my eye that draw my face down. I haven't left Jonina's side in days.  
  
I've stop going to synagogue. What is the point? How could any so called higher power allow an innocent child die like this?  
  
I call to her nurse to look after her; I need just few moments to gather myself. I sigh. I'm at a loss for solutions. I have prayed in the name of every God I know. I've preformed my penance, sacrifices( I would set this city ablaze and play the fiddle if I had to. I'd do anything to appease whatever entity holds my Jonina in its deathly grip. To no avail my prayers obviously fell on deaf ears.  
  
I throw myself on the ground. "My God! Anyone, please! Spare my child! You've cursed me with the inability to have more! Why would you take the only one I have?!" I beat my chest and tare my robes in grief. I scream at God. "How could you do this?! How could you ignored my tears, ignore my grief ignore the pain and torment my child is suffering? "  
  
The empty echo of the storage answers nothing. It just makes me feel more alone and forsaken. I rub my throat. My voice is raw. I have to stop and bring myself back to a figure of normalcy. I don't want to embarrass my husband, he suffers enough grief. I slowly make my way back to daughter's room.  
  
I look at her now, her anguished face, her labored breathing. What am I to do? I hold my defeated head.  
  
"What? What is it?" I snap at a maid. "Who? A teacher? He performs miracles you say?" Is this man so wondrous that he might cure my child? I think to myself. I get this warm surge of hope. I haven't felt that in awhile. And it might be the only thing that keeps me from going off the deep end.  
  
"Don't just stand there! Find this man!" I'm almost excited as I go to tell my husband the news and find myself bumping into the maid. She is caught in my husband's harsh and disdainful gaze.  
  
He tells me we can't bring the man, Jesus, here. My husband says he's a heretic. At this point I don't care. He says they would frown upon him and his household. They would talk and question his status. They would possibly ruin him. I just wonder to myself out loud, what gives these strangers, the "They" who decide things for everyone else, the right to decide when my child's life can be disregarded? "They" weren't there when she fell ill.  
  
"They" weren't there when we found out what it was from.  
  
"They" weren't there when we went from doctor to doctor trying all sorts of protocols to try and find the herbs we hoped would slow things down.  
  
"They" weren't there when we had to take her out of everything we had worked so hard to give her, out of concern for everyone else's well being.  
  
Where are "They" now that our child lies in her death bed?  
  
"They" aren't here as we all hover around her, trying to make things as comfortable as we can, all the while scared of that may not wake up.  
  
"They" won't be there if she doesn't!  
  
And now "They" have the nerve to tell me I can't bring this man to save my child?  
  
"Tell me this Jarius, when did "They" live our life? When did "They" feel our pain? Tell me! For when "They" do any of those things, then "They" can tell me what I can do to help my child.  
  
My husband brands my face with his hand.  
  
"Watch your tongue, woman! Don't you forget who has a say in this house" He leaves me in a puddle of my tears. "No my husband," I try to hold back my sobs. "Don't you forget who has a say here."  
  
Five more days I've tried begging and compromising with my husband. But frankly I'm just tired now. I am irritable and very close to beheading my pigheaded husband. I sit at the foot of Jonina's bed. I feel it. I know! I know this Jesus is the only one who can help our little one.  
  
I fear this is her last day therefore my last chance to change his mind.  
  
"I don't give a fly on an ass's behind what he is or what position you, my husband, hold!" "Nor do I care what people might think!" I scream, straining my already horse voice. "My child, our child is dying!" "Why can't anyone understand that?" "She is DYING!" My sobs rack my whole body. My husband pretends I'm annoyance that needs to be ignored. "Why do you refuse our child life?" Still nothing from him. "Jairus?" He gets up from his seat and turns to leave.  
  
"Who are you?" I stare at his back in disbelief.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where is my husband?"  
  
"What are talking about?" He turns around and advances toward me.  
  
"Where is the man I married?" I know that I'm overstepping my boundaries as a wife but I don't care. He can divorce me after my child is well. "I want the man who promised my father that he would do anything to protect me and our children." "I want that man back, for I know that he wouldn't allow his position at synagogue nor anyone else come between the life of his child." "Hear me Jairus, You go bring this Jesus here." "Or I will turn my respect and my love away from you!" He looks stunned by my speech. I stand rigid and close my eyes awaiting to see if he responds with compliance or violence toward me. All I hear are the thumps of feet running. I open my eyes. My husband is gone. Once again the warm rays of hope surge through my veins. I sigh in relief and sink into the nearest chair.  
  
There is a knock at my door. I smile at my daughter's nurse as she enters. Something in her eyes causes my smile to dwindle and my heart to squeeze.  
  
"What has happened?" I ask, worry forcing my voice to crack. She tears up.  
  
"What has happened I say!" I grab the poor woman's shoulder.  
  
It's Jonina...she...she...she stopped breathing. My heart dropped. My ears burned. Everything went quiet. The nurse's explanation was a gurgled mess to me. Every inch of my being screams. The whole world lost its color. All I could see is the rooms fly past me then my Jonina. Cold. Everything went cold. I don't know how long I stood there, looking at my only child's lifeless body. A maid shook me. She was trying to tell my 'good for nothing' husband was returning. Everything went red.  
  
"You murderer!" I roared at him. I beat him with my fists as hard as my drain body allowed. "You let her die!" "You pig! You let her die!" I could not keep myself steady and I slid to the floor wailing.  
  
"Why all the commotion?"  
  
Who is this? I thought to myself. How dare you say this! Of course she's dead! Can't you see her? The man walked in followed by tree others.  
  
"The child is not dead but asleep." The room filled with sniggers. Please don't tell me this is the man I had put all my hopes in. He told them all to go outside. Why what is the point? Doesn't he understand? Jonina is gone. There is no more he can do. He took Jonina by her hands.  
  
"Talitha koum! I say get up!" And she got up! Immediately stood up and walked around. A breeze could of knock me over! All I could do is weep. She is alive! My child, my Jonina is alive!  
  
The end 


End file.
